Historical setting: 589 C.E. when Brittany was forest
The sticks and brush I find are damp with melting snow, so the fire makes a fine wall of smoke to separate me from seeing the glutton, that very real blob of humanity. He’s expecting that his power to turn pagan myth into material sustenance also works on Christians. He reminds me of Christian superstitions, expecting tangible answers to prayer in the form of nourishment and healing, leaving me pondering what I know of God deep in my heart. I also consider the many human ways of meeting God and it sets me introspective and even in my own heart, there, is God.
My plan is to follow the tribe tomorrow so that I will be a day behind them until they arrive at their village. Then I can beg the hunters to take me into the Vosges Mountains following after the Celtic monks. I don’t wish to travel with this thief. He will surely take my shoes and fleece and bag and now offers to switch out my love of God for material stuff he can take as well. So when he leaves the fireside for a moment I take the opportunity to go quickly up the rocks and out of site. I don’t want to lead him directly to my hidden cave, so I lurk in the rocks, watching. He checks in the two caves visible from below, but apparently chooses not to climb higher onto these rocks by the waterfalls.
He walks a short distance after the tracks of the tribe so I climb higher into the rocks, so that I can see over and see where that trail they left leads. From on top of this precipice I can see the pagan tribe was following a smoother wider path around the base of these cliffs.
The solitude I was seeking wasn’t one purposed with evading a thief, but it is what it is. This nearly hidden cave up here higher than the others is a good place to spend tonight also. I take on the project of arranging rocks to hide the opening and whittling a bow from a greenwood stick. I ponder the question, how do the superstitions of prayers rob me of my love of God?
Dear God, help me to find your love for this swarthy glutton who has gloomed onto me. I’ve been taught prayers of petition are holy and Christian. How is that not superstition? Guide me. So be it.
(Continues tomorrow)
Lazarus Ink 